


My Heart is Calling

by ANTchan



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blizzards & Snowstorms, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 21:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12896739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ANTchan/pseuds/ANTchan
Summary: Bodhi agrees to watch the house for his uncles, Chirrut and Baze, for a week. He's not expecting to be snowed in during a blizzard. He's also not expecting to invite Cassian Andor in for hot chocolate.Written for SniperPilot Winter, for the prompt: "My elderly relative keeps telling me about the nice boy who shovels their driveway, and asks me to spend the day with them. …I was not expecting a very attractive grown man."





	My Heart is Calling

**Author's Note:**

> Starting the SniperPilot Winter even off with... something that isn't a short fic. It was meant to be, I swear!

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

“Uncle Chirrut, I swear, I’m fine. The house is fine.” Bodhi jostles the phone onto his other shoulder, fighting to keep hold of it while he balances a stack of blankets in one hand and a portable heater in another. He gives up halfway, switching on the speaker and tossing his phone onto the coffee table. “The storm’s over and we still have power. And it’s not like I had any plans to leave today.”

 _“You know this, and I know this,"_  Chirrut’s voice is still slightly tinny over the line, even though the snowstorm had broken sometime in the mid dawn hours, but no less mischievous. _“But Baze, he worries."_ If Bodhi strains his ears, he imagines he can hear the man in question grouse at Chirrut. _“Thank you again for watching the house. And looking after Lulu. Has she come out of her corner, yet?”_

Bodhi peers at the tall cage in the corner of the room, where a ruffled old Amazon sits in the highest, farthest corner, glaring at him with her one eye. “Not yet,” he says. “Lulubelle, you wanna say hello to Uncle Chirrut?”

The bird triples in size, and actually _hisses_ at Bodhi.

“I guess not,” he says. “I don’t know why she hates me. She knows me!”

_“She’s just moping because we left her at the house. She’ll come around. It’s only for a week.”_

“Yeah, well, we’ll see if I live out the week. She looks like she’s plotting to murder me.”

 _“Be careful, Bodhi… she’s crafty. She just might.”_ Bodhi can hear Chirrut’s grin over the phone. He stares at it, and then the savagely glowering parrot.

“That’s not funny.”

 _“Oh, it’s a little funny.”_ There’s an indistinct rumble of Baze’s voice, and Chirrut hums. _“Ah, yes. Bodhi, be sure to invite Cassian in when he shows up. Tell that boy he is absolutely not allowed to spend the entire day digging us out. Invite him in for hot chocolate or something.”_

It’s far from the first time has heard about Cassian, the neighbor boy. He’s never met the kid, but Chirrut especially liked to mention him during their frequent calls. The “nice young man” who helped Chirrut carry in the groceries. The “kind boy” who every winter shows up to shovel snow from the driveway. Even Baze seems prone to dote, in his usual subtle manner, on him. (Hardly surprising, given his uncles’ propensity for picking up strays. Or anyone or anything that catches their attention, really.)

“I will, uncle,” Bodhi assures. “Then I’ll make sure he heads straight home.”

_“Or you could invite him to visit for a while. He’s been interested in meeting you.”_

Somehow, Bodhi doubts this Cassian, who can’t be older than thirteen, would find hanging out with a man fast approaching his late-twenties _interesting._ And neither would his parents. “Uh, sure, Chirrut. Sure.” He clears his throat. “You have fun in Hong Kong. Tell Baze I said good hello. Have a nice night.”

_“We will, Bodhi. Thank you. Stay warm and stay safe.”_

“I will. Love you.”

 _“Love you too, my boy. And Baze says he loves you too.”_ They say their goodbyes, and Bodhi ends the call. The house descends into peaceful, wintery silence.

“Well, Lulubelle, it looks like it’s just you and me for now. Will you hate me less if I give you a banana? Or how about an apple?” He pronounces the words carefully, and is pleased when the feathery little monster perks the slightest bit. “An apple it is, then.”

 

\-----------------------------------------

 

The elusive Cassian doesn’t make an appearance until around noon. Bodhi’s spent the morning curled up on the couch in the cocoon he’s diligently made out of a quilt; drifting between reading the novel he’d brought with him, playing his Switch, and watching Lulubelle dutifully destroy the roll of paper towels he’d sacrificed to her fury. A dark shape marring the blinding white snow outside makes Bodhi glance up.

There is indeed someone carrying a shovel trudging through the knee deep snow towards the house. Bodhi can see nothing of the person under all the layers. Although the newcomer does seem rather… tall for what Bodhi had been picturing.

Perhaps Cassian is slightly older than the thirteen or fourteen-year-old he was expecting. Maybe he’s hit his growth spurt.

The form outside slings the shovel off of his shoulder, looking perfectly ready to start at the bottom of the drive and dig their way up to the house. “Shit,” Bodhi says under his breath.

“Shit!” croaks Lulubelle. “CHIRRUT NO.”

“Don’t you start, Lulu,” Bodhi scolds, and leaps up from the couch, dragging his blanket with him. He nearly trips over it on the way to the door, scooping it up around him. The first blast of icy air has Bodhi yelping, both socked feet fighting to stay behind the door. “Hey!” he calls, his voice hitched in the cold wind.

The figure at the bottom of the drive stops mid-shovel, and looks up. Bodhi can barely see a hint of eyes and a lock of hair falling out from under his hat. He waves. “Up here, up here,” he urges. “Fuck, it’s cold.”

Cassian straightens, but takes a few moments longer to start wading up through the snow and ice towards the door. “I’m Chirrut and Baze’s ne...phew…” he starts to call down, and trails off. The closer he gets… the taller Bodhi realizes he is. And broader. He’s not a large person, necessarily. Only slight taller than Bodhi, a little wider in the shoulders. But… no, this is definitely not the form of a teenager.

Cassian stops in front of him, gazing at him in silence. Now that he’s closer, Bodhi can see that his eyes are a deep, dark color. The rest of his face is covered by the scarf tucked up over his nose, though only for a few seconds more. The man, _definitely a man_ , tugs it down, revealing sharp cheekbones and scruff and a curious lilt to his mouth.

Oh, hell.

Bodhi doesn’t feel _cold_ anymore - instead it feels like his face is on fire.

“Um,” he says intelligently. “You’re um… Cassian?”

 _‘You’re gorgeous is what you are,’_ he thinks.

Cassian the _definitely not a teenager_ nods. “And you’re… Bodhi?” Double hell, his voice is soft and just a touch lyrical.

“Uh-huh,” Bodhi mumbles, suddenly very aware of his ratty (though thankfully not holey) sweatpants and his Zelda-patterned socks that are poking out from under the quilt. And the day’s overgrowth of beard on his face. “Um. Sorry. Yeah, I’m Bodhi, Chirrut and Baze’s nephew - well, not by blood. I’m sure they told you. But they’re like uncles to me.” Shit. _Shit,_ he’s rambling. “Anyway they told me under no circumstances were you to dig out their driveway this time. They’re in Hong Kong for the week. I’m watching the house. And Lulubelle.”

“I’m sure she loves that,” Cassian says, and those eyes light up in amusement. This is awful.  _Terrible._

“Yeah, she wants to kill me, I think.” Silence drops between them like a dead weight. Bodhi’s palms start to sweat. “It’s… it’s really cold out.”

“It is.”

“Would you… like to come in? I um… we have hot chocolate. I’m pretty good at that. And I have some video games. ...And Lulubelle.” Bodhi putters out into silence again. Horrible, horrible silence.

But the corners of Cassian’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “I’d love to.”

Bodhi covers up (to what degree of success, he won’t think about) his near whimper as he jumps out of the way of the door. The quilt gets tucked almost protectively around his shoulders as he closes the door behind Cassian. He convinces himself the warmth coming off of Cassian, crackling along every exposed inch of Bodhi’s skin, is a trick of his mind.

He definitely doesn’t cover up the second distressed noise as the man strips off his hat and his scarf, revealing silken, slightly mussed hair and the long column of his neck, because Cassian glances at him. His heart jolts. “I-I’ll be right back.” He brushes by, making a beeline through the living room and tossing the quilt on the couch as he passes. The moment he ducks into the guest room he’s digging through his bag for something that doesn’t look like he’s just rolled out of bed. He may not have brought anything worthy of a date (which this certainly wasn’t!) but surely Bodhi had something better than what he’s currently wearing.

A comfortable, flattering pair of jeans later, but no appropriate substitute for the faded henley or the Zelda socks, Bodhi accepts that he’s already doomed this to failure so he might as well roll with it. He absently checks that his ponytail hasn’t gone lopsided, mourns that a fresh shave would be too obvious, and returns as casually as he can to the living room.

Cassian has removed his coat and gloves in the time that Bodhi had been gone, leaving him in jeans that do… well, wonderful things for him, and a thick, comfortable sweater. He’s standing in front of Lulubelle’s cage, peering up at the cranky old bird where she sits on top of it, speaking to her in soft tones. “How are you, _bonita_?” he croons.

Lulu, the traitor, whistles brightly in that same nonsensical tune that Chirrut often does.

“Oh, so _you_ , she likes,” Bodhi attempts to joke. Cassian turns, the smile on his face faltering only slightly as he takes in the change in Bodhi’s attire. Bodhi tugs at his shirt self-consciously.

And then the smile returns, softer. “I bribe her with almonds whenever I’m here,” he explains. At the word, Lulu perks up again, mimicking the sound of her treat tin opening. Obediently, Cassian plucks the tin off the nearby shelf and passes an almond to her.

“That looks more like being trained to me.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m easy to train.”

Bodhi… does not know what to say to that. Without combusting. He clears his throat. “S-So I promised you hot chocolate.”

The other man nods, still gazing at Bodhi in a way that makes his skin tingle, and paces closer. “You did.”

Chest suddenly tight, Bodhi smiles nervously, and changes course for the doorway to the kitchen. “You can… make yourself at home. Hang out with Lulu, or s-something. I’ll bring the mugs out when they’re done.” He absolutely does not scurry away to the safety of the kitchen. Not at all. Because that would be _cowardly._

He didn’t think to bring any proper chocolate with him, so Bodhi settles for putting the kettle on to boil and dragging out the tin of instant cocoa. They still have milk, chocolate syrup, cinnamon, and whipped cream, so Bodhi can doctor it up nicely. He sets everything down on the counter, his mind on autopilot and buzzing with anxiety. His hands shake a little, and he clenches them on the edge of the counter to still the tremors.

He’s invited his uncles’ - very attractive - _grown man_ of a neighbor in for hot chocolate. …Now what?

His gut tells him to go for it. To go for _what_ is another question entirely. Is it weird to ask someone out after meeting them fifteen minutes ago? Is it creepy? Is it _stupid?_

Yes. The answer to that last one is definitely yes.

Bodhi doesn’t do this. He _never_ does this. There’s a reason Bodhi has been single for years. There’s a reason he doesn’t _date._ And it’s _this._ How is he supposed to know how and when and _even if_ he should start this?

A knock against the doorjamb has him bolting upright again. Cassian stands in the doorway, looking concerned. “Hey. Everything okay?”

“Oh! Y-Yes. Sorry. Just… um… just waiting? You can sit down, I don’t mind--”

“No, it’s alright. I was just coming to…” Cassian trails off, folding his arms across his chest. He seems to wrestle with his next words. “Well, you’re not ten, is what I was trying to say.”

He blinks. “I’m not… what?”

“Ten.” Cassian gestures back out into the living room. “Mister Imwe talks about you a lot. But the only picture I’ve seen is the one on the mantle.”

Bodhi flushes hotly. “The… oh god, the picture from when I won the boxcar derby? I can’t believe… god, I’ve told him to take that stupid thing down so many times.” An incredulous laugh, half hysterical, lodges in his throat. “Did he show it off? It sounds like Chirrut.”

“Only a little,” Cassian admits. “Mostly he would just tell me about how wonderful his cute nephew is, and how he would be would like it if I took his nephew somewhere when he visits. He mentioned a movie, the park, ice skating, maybe.”

“Well, to be fair, I thought you were like, fourteen with the way he--” Bodhi freezes, the second half of Cassian’s answer finally processing. “He--” A sound like a dying animal leaves his mouth next. “ _He didn’t._ ”

He isn’t the only one with the red face here. Even Cassian looks a little pink now. “He did. Especially after I told him about the asshole my friend tried to set me up with. Didn’t catch it, then. Your uncle is… crafty.”

Bodhi covers his face with this hands, and wishes for _death._ “I’m so, _so sorry,_ ” he says from behind his hands. He’s too busy wishing the floor would open up beneath his feet. And so the feather light touch at his elbow makes him jump back, knocking into the counter.

Cassian’s eyes are wide, apologetic. “Bodhi,” he says gently. He’s not standing in Bodhi’s space, exactly. He’s keeping a polite distance. But all the same Bodhi can feel it, this… _something_ crackling in the space between them. He doesn’t like it. In fact, something instinctual and wanting urges Bodhi to close the gap as soon as possible.

They gaze at each other. Neither of them can seem to form words for a stretch of moments. The only sound in the kitchen is the gentle bubbling of the kettle.

“He was right, you know?” Cassian says at last.

“Right?”

Cassian breaks his gaze first, his lashes fluttering as he looks away. They’re long and soot-dark against his skin. And his smile is almost shy, and entirely breathtaking. “About his nephew being cute?”

The words that try to leave Bodhi’s mouth all jam together into one incoherent smear of sound. “Y-You… really. _Really?_ ”

“Yes? And… if you’d like to do… any of those things. We could?” Cassian tips his head towards the window, his grin turning rueful. “Well, not today. I don’t think anyone is getting out of this neighborhood today.”

“W-We could stay in? And still have a date?” Bodhi is quick to suggest. His heart feels ready to slam out of his ribs, but it’s exhilarating. “Is that weird? I don’t, uh, date. Really. I hooked up some in college but--” His eyes widen in horror, just as Cassian’s brows tick upwards. (But the look on the other man’s face isn’t exactly disapproval. No it’s almost _interest--_ Bodhi can’t think about that. He _will die._ ) “I mean not-- it was either that or I had those dates where you’re both too broke to do anything, so you sit in a dorm room and watch shitty movies and play games and eat ramen out of a cup. Not… _adult dating._ ”

Cassian’s expression softens, and Bodhi isn’t sure if that’s better, or worse. “I wouldn’t mind staying in today…” he says. “We could try the… _adult dating_ thing once the snow is clear.” He reaches for Bodhi again, this time slow, with a heartbreaking gentleness. He takes Bodhi’s hand in his, and draws it up to his lips. They press warm and dry against his knuckles, the slight ticklish brush of his beard making Bodhi’s heart leap. “If you want to.”

Bodhi gapes at him, mouth parted. He mentally picks his jaw up off the floor a moment later, determination filling him. “Stop me if I’m being too forward,” he says. He musters up the restraint to give Cassian a few seconds warning before he cups Cassian’s sharp jaw in both hands, and leans up to kiss him.

He doesn’t have to worry about being forward, in the end, because Cassian is already smiling against his mouth, a flicker of movement before he lets out the tiniest breath of a moan, and tips his head for a better angle. He meets each of Bodhi’s kisses with his own, chasing Bodhi’s mouth as he pulls back for each shaky gasp. Bodhi feels like he’s soaring, though his feet haven’t even left the ground. Cassian’s arms go around his waist, drawing him in, pressing Bodhi up against every warm line of him. But there’s something so _soft_ in the way Cassian trembles as Bodhi’s tongue teases his lower lip. Something so addicting in the little exhale, not quite a whimper, against Bodhi’s mouth.

Their kisses linger each time, growing deep and more insistent.

And then the kettle lets out a shrill, escalating whistle, and both of them freeze. They don’t part completely, drawing back enough to watch each other without going cross-eyed. There’s something incredibly fetching about Cassian’s pleasure-dark eyes and the flush warming his cheeks.

From the other room, Lulubelle lets out screech in echo to the kettle.

Cassian chuckles, and leans in again. But instead of pressing his lips to Bodhi’s, he brushes a feather light kiss under the corner of his eye, and steps back. “I’ll see about her,” he offers.

“Y-es,” Bodhi rasps, voice low and hitching around the word. He isn’t imagining the the catch in Cassian’s breath at the sound of his voice, which is… a power rush unlike any other. “I’ll, um, I’ll get the drinks. Be right out?”

Cassian smiles at him, that same small, heart stopping smile, and waves at him on the way out. Bodhi lifts a hand to wave back, regardless of the fact that Cassian is no longer in the doorway… and gazes at the spot that other man had occupied for a few moments.

The continuing shriek of the kettle finally knocks him out of his daze, and he whirls to remove it from the burner.

Maybe being snowed in for the day won’t be so bad after all.

 

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**END.**


End file.
